


Sympathy for the Devil

by lottipoppi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Adam Young saves the day, Adventure, Angst and Feels, Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Chuck Shurley is God, Chuck's a+ parenting, Depression, Developing Friendships, Doctor Who References, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, LATER, M/M, Multiverse, Portals, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 04, Recreational Drug Use, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Season/Series 11, Sex, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Songfic, Strong Female Characters, Tears, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, devil tears, heartbroken Lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottipoppi/pseuds/lottipoppi
Summary: After the rebellion God (Chuck) cast Samael down from heaven and, in the meanwhile, he decided to run multiple storylines. He split the universe and his son in three different versions. But the grace it took to split the universe was so great that he had to ground the power of each world in the version of the king of hell that was ruling in each universe.So, what happens when all three devils become desperate and hopeless?The multiverse collapses.
Relationships: Amenadiel/Linda Martin (Lucifer TV), Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Crowley/Bobby Singer, Ella Lopez/Adam Young, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Michael (Supernatural), Mazikeen/Charlie Bradbury, Satan | Lucifer & Adam Young (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling & Adam Young
Comments: 27
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first very structured fanfic so I see myself finishing it by the end of next month. At the beginning of each chapter there will be the name of a devilish song (with author in brackets) to inspire you as you read).
> 
> Since I am not a native speaker please politely tell me if you find any typos. 
> 
> However, if there are pairings you do not like that's ok, just do not read. No abuse in the comments please. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> P.S. do comment as well if you're loving this. :)

**\- Heart of the Devil (Danzig) -**

_Below Los Angeles, on the throne of Hell…_

Lucifer felt his hands stick to the cold infernal stone of his throne, it made him sick. His father could have just as easily stuck him in a cage if all he wanted was his misery but no, dear old Dad could never be so straightforward. He had to make sure that Lucifer chose to inflict this punishment on himself. It had to be the ultimate and most cruel manipulation for it to be an appropriate penance for his monstrous son.

Lucifer looked to the side and crossed his legs. In every direction from his throne there was nothing but empty, an infinite distance meant to keep demons from taking his forced crown. Despite the small wind that moved the lapels of his suit, the last earthly possession he had allowed himself, Lucifer knew that the wind would be the last whisper of a touch he was likely to get.

No longer would he feel a pat on the back from his brother, a friendly (or unfriendly) slap from Maze, or one of Ms. Lopez’s all enveloping hugs. But, most of all, he was trying not to think of the detective: her hands on his shoulders, comforting him, her arms in front of his torso to stop him acting impulsively, her hands caressing his face when she finally accepted him, her lips… no, he couldn’t dwell further, he would never see her again.

But as Lucifer’s traitorous brain showed him teary declarations and his last passionate kiss, a tear made its way down his cheek and onto the stone, and the world shook.

* * *

_Many many many miles below Tadfield…_

Satan curled his long leathery wings once more around his body, it was lonely in the deepest pit of hell and his enormous form filled the entire space of what had once been his throne room.

Since the failed apocalypse where his son had so grievously betrayed him, very few demons had dared to entertain his presence. At first his fury had him incinerate all those he could see in sight but now, after so many years even he had placated his rage and let those sparse, disgusting subjects of his keep him company once in a while.

Fire dripped from the walls onto the floor, another soul successfully corrupted, not that he cared anymore what Hell’s ledgers were. His father had abandoned him here eons ago then vanished into thin air. After a few millennia of pretending there was no point in attempting to be anything but the monster he believed he had become so Satan remained in his devilish form at all times, imposing control on all the demons and letting his height and unpleasant features create the respect he wanted without too much effort.

Now he had long forgotten how to return to his angelic features, the blond hair and tall stance he saw reflected in Adam’s build, even as young as he was when they met, even the wings that had once illuminated all of heaven with their brilliance were now hidden under layers of red burnt skin and soot from the brimstone.

Sometimes the lord of hell couldn’t help thinking that maybe, had he retained his former beauty, he could have simply travelled to earth himself, seduced a mortal woman and seen Adam grow into the creature he was meant to be.

With thoughts of fatherhood plaguing his mind, Satan let one black drop fall from his eyes into a crack in the floor of his cage, once again a tremor ran through the walls.

* * *

_The Cage, deep in the bowels of Hell…_

Lucifer knew it had been eons in Hell time since he and Michael entered the cage together at the end of the failed Apocalypse. Adam’s soul had flown to heaven before the gates closed, having had been destined for heaven all along, and after Sam left the two angelic brothers had nothing left to torment but each other.

Now Michael had lost his mind, the favourite son was not used to punishment, much less a variety of it that would never and could never end. His mind could not take it and for the past five earth years (Lucifer had become good at converting hell time into earth years, it came from experience), he had done nothing but fly aimlessly and violently around the cage, screaming for Father to let him out.

Obviously, the devil knew that all of this flying and pleading was to no avail, father had stopped caring a long time ago about what happened to his sons or his creations. It was almost as if he created everything then believed his job was done and his hands were clean. There was no more for the Father of all creation to do. Also, with the mysterious disappearance of their mother shortly after his fall father had been alone, and surely grown even more ruthless in his omnipotence.

When they were young and father, mother and their aunt Amara were all still in heaven, him and his three oldest brothers; Michael, Raphael and Gabriel; had all been so happy. Not that the genetic rules of human relationships were equivalent in any way to the heavenly concept of angelic brothers. They were all of one flock but in the thousands of his siblings more than one had taken another as a lover or a spouse. These unions were sometimes so strong that angels would rise in rank and grace through the power of their unions.

At one point, long still before his rebellion, Lucifer had even entertained the possibility of asking Michael for such a union, they had been so close. And that was why, as he stared at his oldest sibling flying madly around the cage, reason gone from his eyes, Lucifer could feel his heart break. While he was resigned to his own fate, he could not fathom how their father, their rivalry and their hate had condemned Michael to an end worse than smiting.

As he looked at Michael, Lucifer wept, and one final tear hit the floor of the cage, turning to ice and piercing through the fabric of the universe.

* * *

_That’s sooooo CHUCK!_

In his favourite cabin on the Appalachian Mountains, Chuck was revelling still being in his pyjamas at lunchtime. It was relaxing being a retired divinity sometimes, especially since he trusted in the creatures He had gifted with free will to take care of any and all problems that might threaten the existence of his creations.

He walked to the kitchen island in the centre of his house and picked up one of his favourite books to pass the time. He loves how humanity chose to create stories set in infinite variations of the world, it had actually been surprising to find that the humans had followed one of his very first ideas actually. When he was young, he had managed to split his universe in three very similar but slightly different versions of itself; it had been something he had wanted to do from The Beginning but had lacked the control to execute without having to prolong creation to no end.

It was Samael’s rebellion that allowed him his final spark, the idea that would ground the multiverse. As Samael fell, Chuck split his body in three and gave all the angels consciousness, it would vary little from the pain of the fall. As he did this, he attached a different copy, with copies of his siblings as well, of the universe to Samael’s grace. As long as his trapped son remained alive and stable, the multiverse was safe. Just in case, he added a clause, only if all versions of Samael simultaneously fell apart then the barriers of the multiverse would collapse. As long as even just one grace was pure and intact then the multiverse would stand. Finally, he altered everyone’s memory of the events, making it as if there had always been three worlds, but all were just aware of their own.

This is why, when Chuck poured his coffee and opened his book, the tremor in the walls of his house shook him out of his reverie. If this house reinforced with grace was affected by a force that was not His, it could only mean that Samael…

Chuck hurriedly grabbed a pile of blank paper and a typewriter, he could only hope that the Winchesters would trust him enough to act on his behalf, even as his sister roamed the earth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry if it's been awhile but I've been binge watching all of Lucifer, all of Good Omens and now (still in progress) all of Supernatural again to give better characterization :) I have now written a couple of chapters and finished the outline of the story so things should progress faster. Still aiming to finish by the end of May. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

**\- Have a talk with God (Stevie Wonder) -**

Dean woke up disturbed once again. Well, woke up is a relative term for Dean, that day he simply decided to stop staring at the ceiling of his room in the bunker for answers when his stomach demanded it. He lifted himself off the old yet surprisingly still comfortable mattress and cracked his neck. Lack of sleep didn’t really affect him as much as it used to nowadays, he was unsure whether it was because of his somewhat brief stint into demonhood or if it was just age, no way to tell as he didn’t have any previous experience with aging ex-demons or even simply enough experience with hunters that even got close enough to reaching old age to experience its symptoms. Pulling himself out of his reverie, Dean stood up and headed for a shower, hopefully his brother had better luck with either ideas or sleep and would tell him at breakfast.

In the library Sam was nestled in a cocoon of old tomes, the dust on some volumes so thick that they had clearly been left untouched long before the bunker had been abandoned. Lost in his own universe, fuelled by a carefully concocted mix of concentration, desperation and spinach smoothie, Sam was translating a passage in Sumerian about a lost variety of demon blades when a sliver of the morning sun, managing to pass through his tower of books, made him aware of the fact that it was likely breakfast time.

Both brothers headed groggily to the kitchen, they had no rush as the bunker was feeling emptier than usual these days. Cas was gone to Chuck knows where, rabid with a curse from Rowena, the Darkness was on the loose and all their friends were either in Hell, in Heaven or AWOL. The only peaceful hunter right now seemed to be Garth, unaware of the world and currently honeymooning with his new werewolf wife and with a litter on their way (even though Dean found it disturbing that they called it that). All in all, it seemed that Sam and Dean could only have each other and several books on lore for company (much to Dean’s chagrin, where’s an angel when you need one?).

Even with the particularly high-strung atmosphere and the several layers of sleep deprivation on both their faces, Sam and Dean managed to work around each other while preparing their respective breakfasts. Since breakfast – and especially home cooked breakfast - was a new tradition for the Winchester brothers, having lived most of their life on the road, they had gone through an adjustment period, trying to cook just one thing for the two of them. However, after attempting compromises such as vegetarian burgers (“is that tofu?” Dean had added in horror) or sugar free pancakes (“still too many hydrogenated fats Dean!” Sammy protested) they had settled on simply each cooking their own breakfasts and to leave it at that. Today Dean was enjoying a home-made taco (Dean had discovered that, given the opportunity, he actually had a natural skill for cooking) with a side of apple pie and Sam was sipping on a protein smoothie and licking clean a bowl that had once contained yoghurt, cereal, fruits and honey. Finally feeling alive, and having set the dishes up for cleaning, Dean took Sam’s place in the library as his freakishly tall brother preferred cold showers in the morning and argued that – because of this – he should go first. Dean didn’t really mind, he was hardly one to deny himself a pleasure, even now, so his showers tended to be long, hot, and preferably containing a hot woman (or angel, added his traitorous brain) ready to soap him up and join him in bed later.

As he approached Sammy’s pile of books Dean let his mind wander. He was very worried about the situation they were in, probably the most he had ever let himself worry since Sammy had plummeted to hell while being joy ridden by Lucifer. Now, truly, was the first time since the botched apocalypse that they had made a jump of truly cosmic proportions in choosing their enemy. The Darkness was not to be trifled with, as she (she? Probably) had already proven that her will could change reality. And in this world, commanded by darkness, there was no sign of Chuck, no sign of Crowley, no sign of Chuck, it seemed as if they were alone. Thinking once more about Cas, out there, low on grace, cursed and alone, Dean’s heart shrank. His friend, who had been through thick and thin with him over the past seven years, was helpless and Dean could do nothing about it. Not being able to bear the thought, Dean craved a distraction.

Dean went over to the corner of the room to turn on the radio and – almost as a joke on his current train of thought – “How deep is your love” (by the Bee Gees, no less) came on the station. Irate, dean turned it off, he didn0t want to be reminded of bees, or angels, or his possibly very complicated and inappropriate feelings for those angels. It wasn’t so much that Cas was in a male vessel, Dean had little issue with sleeping with men, it was just true of his reality that sleeping with women was so much easier, especially when one needed to maintain anonymity. No, it was because of their friendship, the only other time Dean had considered… going further… with someone who was a friend was with Jo, but that was many years ago and he counted it more as a misguided youthful hope than a possibility for the future. He was born a hunter, raised a hunter, and – as such – he was destined to die alone.

“Hey Dean, have you not looked at any of my notes yet? I swear, it’s been at least 20 minutes” Sam protested as he came into view, fully dressed in new clothes and furiously towelling his long strands of hair in an attempt to violently scare the water out of them.

“Hey Sammy, I was lost in thought for a minute, the radio did something weird.” Dean interjected, dodging the flying bullets of water raining from Sam’s form.

“EMF? Angel radio? I thought the bunker was fully warded against those; do we need to reinforce our wards?” Sam mumbled with anxiety still palpable even through the layers of absorbent cotton.

“NO, no… no, nothing like that, just… never mind.” Dean closed the conversation dejectedly. This was not the time for chick flick moments (at one point he would have said that no time was the time for chick flick moments, but it seemed that his newfound tolerance was – once again – due to old age).

A loud thumping sound reverberated throughout the bunker, the origin seemingly coming from the central planning room.

“Dean… emergency gear is under the table, grab me one, we are not alone.” Sam whispered, tossing the now soaked towel into a corner.

“C’mon Sammy! What could even **get** through these wards? We even double checked them with Cas and Crowley! There is NO WAY!” Dean exclaimed, not entirely as nonchalantly as he was attempting to come off as. “It’s probably just one of those old, weirdly placed objects that finally fell down.”

Sam levelled him with a look and a word “The Darkness.”

Immediately reminded of their situation, Dean grabbed the gear and him and Sam slowly made their way behind furniture towards the main room.

In the middle of the large oval table on which they had planned countless hunts and world saving endeavours now sat a blindingly white letter and next to it what seemed like a packed present.

Slowly and suspiciously Sam and Dean lowered their weapons and approached the package. On the letter, amidst the whiteness of it all, was embedded in typewriter ink one word “Chuck”.

“Are we supposed to just… trust it? I mean, we don’t have the best track record with things and people being exactly what they say they are!” Dean interjected quickly, just as he saw Sam’s hand reach for the page.

“Dean, I know that this is all very unlikely but just, hear me out. If this is from the Darkness, the fact that Chuck’s name is on the envelope shows that she **knows him** , in fact she knows him enough to understand that he would have this kind of power. In that case, it is likely that she is trying to trick us with the contents of the letter and NOT with the letter itself.”

“But…”

“Dean!”

“BUT…”

“DEAN, let me finish!”

“Ok…”

“As I was saying, this is unlikely to be a touch-and-it-kills-you trap, it would defeat the purpose of us actually believing it’s from who it says it is. Now, if it is a trap it is by manipulation, she is writing asking us to do something, probably something dangerous, at Chuck’s behest.” Sam calmly explained.

“So, how does this help us? We read it; how do we know who it’s really from?” Dean exclaimed with frustration.

“Well, I believe that my pre-law training may be of some help this time. I have read a lot of Chuck’s work and I think I still have a copy of one of the Supernatural books in the back of my cupboard. If, and this is a big if, the styles don’t match, it is unlikely that the letter is from Chuck. There is a possibility that the Darkness found a way to copy His style but it’s the only thing we’ve got, Dean.”

After some reluctant grumbling, Dean nodded, and Sam opened the envelope. Inside was a single typewriter sheet with dense writing on it and, stuck to the bottom of it, a single feather.

The feather was definitely too big to be coming from a bird, even Bald Eagles didn’t have feathers this long and – even if they did – no avian feather could compare to the pigment of this one, a deep blue, the colour of the night sky, with tiny freckles of white sprinkled all over them. They were beautiful, and they looked so soft. Dean could feel himself being drawn to it, wanting to touch it, somehow he knew it would feel like home and love and… “Dean! NO, we don’t know who it’s from yet!” Snapping himself out of his reverie at the sound of his brothers’ voice, Dean retreated, just far enough to avoid temptation.

Sam started reading the letter out loud to his brother:

“Hello Sam, Hello Dean,

I am afraid that I have made a mess that I cannot quite undo alone. The details of what I mean are best explained in narrative, so I had my illustrator make a simplified version of events for you, apparently, I tend to ramble, though I hadn’t even noticed, I mean… Maybe I picked up when I was living with Becky? My ex never did talk that much…

Anyway, as a gesture of good faith I have arranged for a couple of errors to be fixed. First of all, notice the feather, I’ve made it corporeal for you but beware that only Dean should touch it (in retrospect I should have probably written this earlier) as it might be harmful to anyone else. That is one of Castiel’s leading feathers, if you listen to it, it will lead you to him. When he is reunited with it, it will also cure him of all ills and permanently replenish his grace… with a kick. But, now, that’s too many spoilers already.

Also know that I’ve given back to Earth two members of your family. Not your blood family, just your chosen family. I believe they will be useful in achieving what I have asked of you and they were both taken sooner than planned anyway. I have had, a word, of sorts, with the king of hell, you should have no trouble from him. And be safe in the knowledge that, until this affair is over and done with, I will use all of my grace, and some useful avoidance skills, to take care of the Darkness. This is more important.

Good Luck,

Chuck Shurley”

Sam took a breath, the man (divinity?) was right, he was a real rambler. It was, however, quite undoubtedly clear that the author was exactly who he said he was, a relief in the current situation.

“I believe it Dean.”

“Yes, so do I, though I’m not sure why he gave the feather to me.” Dean wondered.

“Maybe… I know it has probably burned away by now but perhaps having been tainted by demon blood once it’s too divine for me?” Sam attempted a rationalisation.

“Dude, I **was** a demon, doesn’t get any less holy than that.” Dean pointed out.

“I don’t know, how could I know why Chuck does anything! Omnipotence must have at least **some** impact on his behaviour.” Sam was exasperated, and confused, but he nonetheless passed the letter with the feather in it to Dean (who very carefully folded it into his shirt without touching the feather) and made a quick job of unwrapping the present.

Inside the wrapping was what appeared to be a graphic novel, drawn with the same overexaggerated style of muscular shirtless men that characterised all illustrations of the Supernatural books. Sam upturned his nose slightly at the sight but noticed the cover anyway.

“The separation of Samael” Dean read out.

“Wait, Samael… as in Lucifer? Oh no no no, he is **not** dragging us into this Apocalypse crap again!” he exclaimed in indignation, he had already given enough of his life to the planning of this celebrity death match.

“Dean, wait! Why would it only mention Lucifer if this was about the apocalypse? I hate to say it, but Lucifer might be a part of some other plan that doesn’t involve tearing the world to pieces… hopefully.” Sam explained “Though I seriously doubt Chuck ever had that much facial hair, divine powers or not.” He continued, referring to the oiled up and overly muscular depiction of Chuck on a cloud, wearing an excessively open tunic and tossing an equally unrecognisable image of Lucifer into the abyss below.

Cringing once more at the cover, Dean – this time – opened it and started describing the story.

“Ok… this whole page is clearly porn I mean… wait, is that a chick? Go Chuck! Didn’t know you had it in you! Though I suppose I’m watching the birth of a bunch of angels, ew. Wait… are these Cas’ parents? Am I watching porn of Cas’ parents!”

Sam chuckled “Yeah, your future in-laws, enjoy!” he jested.

“WHAT!”

“Nothing, nothing, continue.”

“Not sure I can without an eye bleach, Sammy but I’ll try. Ok, it says here that the angels are not exactly brothers, they’re more like a… genderless clone army, some were raised together but it’s more like a Mormon community than me and you, thankfully, I’ve seen some kiss each other.” Dean cringed again, it seemed to be a regular activity on that day.

“Anyway, this page is all… cartoony, the angels are fighting, almost impossible odds for Lucifer it seems, he only had a handful of followers. Ah, and this must be the fall… wait.” Dean was silent for a few minutes, eyes bulging exponentially more and the page turning progressing faster and faster until he slammed the book shut and stared shell shocked at his brother.

“Well?” asked Sam, in a bout of concern.

“It’s very strange, almost unbelievable, even for us.”

“What is it Dean?”

“Well, it seems that Lucifer is literally the centre of the universe.”

“What? What do you mean?” Sam started to panic slightly.

“Not, geographically, just, it seems that Chuck was not happy creating just our world, he wanted more… playthings. So when he cast Lucifer into hell, he split him in three separate beings and, in doing so, he also triplicated the whole universe with the exception of himself, his wife – and trust me, that’s the one detail I have the hardest time believing – and his sister.” As he was explaining Dean pointed to the pictures on a page, describing which was which. “Which, if this graphic novel is anything to be believed is actually the Darkness. But I suppose we don’t have to worry about her for the time being.”

“Every other creature, including all the angels, has a counterpart in the other universes. Which could mean three of us, three of Crowley, three of Cas… and so on. But, for some reason, none of them were made to look the same.” Dean paused, checking that Sam was still with him. Sam, having been a straight A student his whole life, had no problem keeping up with vague and convoluted concepts obviously but he still appreciated the reprieve.

“But to do that, without using too much grace, he had to… anchor, for the lack of a better word, each reality in the state of the most constant thing in it, that world’s Lucifer. The theory was that at Least one of the Lucifer would be satisfied at all times, and keeping everything in order, but what’s happened now apparently is that all the Lucifers are depressed, and until they’re all perfectly peachy again the worlds are going to start collapsing.”

Sam stared perplexed “Did he mention how this collapse would happen?”

“Well, not anything comprehensible, he went on and on – even in graphic! That man has a talent for rambling I swear – about thinning walls or some crap. Either way it all ends with a reverse Big Bang if we don’t stop it.”

“So…” Sam started. “We’re on a holy quest to go across the universes to be the Devil’s therapists? What makes Chuck even think that we’re the role models for emotional stability? This is going to end very badly.”

“I somehow don’t think we’ll be the ones doing the actual healing here Sammy, Chuck mentions that once we have all three Lucifers we will go to a place where the healing can happen. So I think he just sent us on a hunt of sorts, except we can’t kill the devil, we just have to collect him.”

Sam nodded decidedly. “Okay Dean, whatever this is we cannot do it on our own. We need a team. Now, we already know that Chuck gave us a way to find Castiel so that is the first order of business, then we need to figure out who from our chosen family has returned to us. We’ve got a long road trip again, Dean. Ready to rock it like old times?”

At his brother’s declaration Dean gave a little smile, he did miss being on the road with his little brother. “Let’s go Sammy, we need some gear, clothes and coffee capsules, I am never returning to gas station coffee, not after this.” Sam gave a little laugh and the brothers headed to their rooms to grab all the necessary equipment for their trip.

At one point, all that was missing was some particularly old arsenal they had stored away in a back room for angel-free emergencies. However, as they opened the room to the storage, the last thing Sam and Dean were expecting to see was yet another surprise.

In the centre of the room, laying down in a very haphazard capacity on top of some equipment, was a rather tall, but not too tall, rather muscular, but still lean, man with a head of very curly blonde hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes. He was handsome and held himself well, but that was not enough to betray the confusion on his face.

“Em, Hello.” He started, with the most British accent one could possibly come up with.

“Name’s Adam, I’m from Tadfield, I admit I’m not the best at orientation outside of forests but this doesn’t look like my campus. Could you point me in the direction of St Pancras? I can find my way from there.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie lands somewhere new... but first, how is she alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I finally completed the fleshed out outline of this fic and I've predicted a minimum of 20 chapters to get it to make sense. This is going to be a long road to hell everyone. ;)

**-Hell ain’t a bad place to be (ACDC) -**

Charlie Bradbury had had, overall, a pretty strange day even by her standards. First of all, the main thing that was strange about her day so far was that she was having one at all. She had managed to gain consciousness in her own house and several years after she’d been Fillet au Frankenstein’d – quite unpleasantly so if memory served – and the plot just added well up to a resurrection. So, first strange thing, she was on Earth, in one piece and breathing (or, well, hyperventilating initially). Second strange thing was that, shortly after waking up in her own house, grabbing her old phone (and who knows how **that** got there) and checking the date on it (because of course it was charged somehow) she ended up being sucked through a hole in her own pavement that appeared out of nowhere and vanished as soon as it dropped her where she was now – in a house with the weirdest decorations she had seen in her life. I mean – who puts bubble wrap on the ceiling?

So, well in the Winchester fashion (Charlie had thought of herself as an honorary Winchester for quite a while now and the boys didn’t seem inclined to disagree) Charlie had been alive again for no more than a couple of hours and she was already in deep trouble.

However, having been a tech junkie her whole life, Charlie had the good sense to – once again – whip out her miracle phone to contact Sam and Dean. Assuming at least one of them was still both alive and human enough to care, Charlie counted on her call being of interest, after all – even if they thought she might be a shapeshifter or possessed – they wouldn’t give up a chance to check.

\- NO SIGNAL -

Ah, just her luck. Of **course,** she had to be taken somewhere with no feasible way of contacting her friends and no grip on the current supernatural situation.

As Charlie was ruminating about her situation, she heard the lock of the door start to click. Out of instinct, at this point, not knowing what manner of creature was bound to emerge from behind that door, she rolled quickly and hid behind one of the couches. Wait… why was there a scimitar glued to the couch? What a weird house.

Out of the main door, carrying a small satchel and dressed from head to toe in deliciously tight black leather and mesh, was one of the most gorgeous women that Charlie had ever laid her (very very queer, her brain punctuated) eyes on. She was evenly tanned all the way through, with a very fit figure, though not devoid of curves, and long flowing black locks. This creature (for Charlie wasn’t sure she was dealing with a human yet) was so stunning that it almost seemed like the air around her was – itself – charged with magnetism. Charlie forcibly closed her mouth and wiped a small amount of drool from the side of her mouth – now was **not** the time – and hid further below the couch, to the point where she couldn’t see the woman anymore.

Mazikeen had been very frustrated as of late. After Lucifer was forcibly made to fly back to hell, her life on earth as one of a grand total of two supernatural beings living in Los Angeles (not that Amenadiel was acting as much of a supernatural creature since he put on his “daddy pants”) was very dull. Her best friend was busy being a mother, Ella was on the case of finding Lucifer (in a misguided attempt to help, the poor human was friends with two angels and a demon and still was oblivious to the Truth) and Chloe had descended into a spiral of desperation after several months of research had yielded no results. That meant that Maze had to occupy her time by herself, now that Eve was on a journey of self-discovery as well, and no amount of sex or alcohol seemed sufficient to dull out the days. So, the demon had once again taken up her favourite sport – bounty hunting. This week her target was a small-town businessman named Dick Roman. He had apparently gone berserk on his creditors and vanished with all the money that belonged to them into thin air, still hell-bent (ha!) on obtaining more funding for his own insane mass production algorithm.

This wasn’t going to be a typical hunt for Maze as the individual himself was very tech savvy rather than escaping by the power of his own cunning or brute strength so she had come back to the house she now shared with Linda and Amenadiel to grab some more modern weaponry that could have some effect on technology (Maze had updated her arsenal after her little trip to Canada – land of the **nice** ).

However, upon entering the house, Maze could smell something unfamiliar, it was human – definitely not a demon – but it was not one of her humans so she rapidly descended into the living room unsheathing her curved hell-blades, poised and ready to attack whoever had dared enter her haven.

“Who’s there?” she yelled, and subsequently yelled in surprise at the feel of a cold unfamiliar blade against her throat.

“This is a silver blade so don’t you dare move!” exclaimed the stranger’s lithe voice “Who are you and how did you take me here!”

Sensing that the stranger had no idea that silver couldn’t harm her, Maze grinned as she gripped the blade and turned them around, slamming the stranger, a good-looking redhead, against the nearest wall in rage.

“Why would silver scare me little human? Only a hell forged blade can even scrape me, and it still requires a lot of skill and brute strength to get it close to my skin.” Maze grinned, turning the blade so that it was flat against the girl’s throat. “Now, tell me, who are you? What are you doing here? And why shouldn’t I turn you over to the police right now with a few dents in you?”

Surprisingly, the woman didn’t seem scared at all – just confused. “Charlie…” she started, and immediately Maze interrupted her in a rage. “How DARE you come here for him! He is under my protection and none dare wish him harm least they incur in my wrath, as well as that of his heavenly father!” Now Maze was so enraged that hellfire was starting to mirror behind her eyes, giving away her otherworldly nature and completely drowning out the obvious confusion on the stranger’s face.

“What… are you talking about?” Whispered the girl, clearly having no idea about any topic in Maze’s tirade. The demon retreated slightly, also confused. “You’re not here for Charlie?” she asked suspiciously.

“I am not here **for** Charlie. Charlie is my name! Or, well, my chosen name anyway.” The stranger – Charlie – exclaimed with no small amount of annoyance. “And I’m just trying to figure out where I’ve ended up! This doesn’t seem like Oz, thankfully, so at least I won’t risk any more battles with my dark side, but it’s definitely not Kansas either so where the hell am I?” Charlie finished.

“Well, you’re not in Kansas, you’re in LA – which is a much better choice little human – though I have no idea how you travelled so fast in so little time and ended up in my house.” Added Maze, in an attempt to make sense of the situation. “Or, why you would think that a silver knife could hurt me? I have several in my arsenal, they cut very well but no better than most metals.”

Charlie had a pensive look on her face, trying to go over the situation so far. This creature was not human, clearly, as she insisted on calling her as much, but it could not be a shapeshifter or a werewolf due to the lack of a silver allergy, or a vampire due to – well – living in one of the sunniest places on earth. Demon then, the Angels were not that sexual.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…”

Maze interrupted her with a laugh. “What is this, amateur Latin hour? You seem to know that I am a demon though I have no idea why you think that you could exorcise me from my own body! No one does possession anymore, especially lately.” Maze’s expression briefly turned dark again thinking of why the possession ban had been reinforced.

Charlie was starting to panic. Not only was she alone with a (very attractive) demon, but she had no demon knife, no holy water and no working exorcism against it. She was going to die, **again**! But, wait, this demon said it had its own body. Not a vessel, not even an empty vessel but its actual own body.

“Wait, this body is yours? How?” Charlie asked.

“Well, every demon is born with one, we are children of the Lilim after all, we were born just as much as humans.” Maze explained, now intrigued by this confusing outsider who went on and on about fictional worlds and tried to exorcise a demon (Maze was still laughing about that one).

“Never seen a demon with its own body around my parts, only possessions. Something tells me I am quite far from home now.” Charlie started panicking.

Surprised by the human’s reaction, Maze sat Charlie down on Linda’s couch and held her shoulders. “Hey, Kansas isn’t that far! I bet that I could get Amenadiel to take you there in no time.” Maze added. She felt an unexpected kinship with this strange human and, for only the third time in her demonic existence, she felt a warmth in her heart at Charlie’s distress.

“No, no, you don’t understand, my phone has no signal, none at all! I thought it was because I ended up in some weird part of the country in which they bubble-wrap ceilings” Maze let out a snort “But now I’m starting to think that I’ve ended up in another universe somehow! And there’s no real way to know except… you can’t be exorcised, and no demon I ever met had their own meatsuit.”

Maze just stared at her – now extremely confused – how many demons were on earth?

“There are a couple of ways to… check my theory. I think.” Continued Charlie. “Tell me, since you’re a demon you must know, has there been an attempted apocalypse a few years back?”

Maze was now bewildered.

“No! Of course not, and I sincerely doubt there will ever be one now that Lucifer has fallen in love with a human. Not even his big brother could convince him to risk killing them off in masses. Not that Michael could ever convince Lucifer of much – or that anyone ever could as a matter of fact.” Maze rambled.

“Then it’s established.” Proclaimed Charlie, both sombre for the distance her family was at and somewhat jubilant at the seemingly much more peaceful nature of the devil in this world. “I am not in my dimension.”

Having established such an outlandish baseline, Maze felt the need to return down to earth, and to do so very very quickly.

“Right, well, I promise to help you find your way home later Charlie. For some reason I find you interesting, and that ass of yours is a bonus” Maze gave Charlie her sex smirk, suddenly Charlie’s face matched her hair. “But now I really do have a time sensitive hunt I need to complete, or I won’t get paid my bounty.” Maze started heading for the door again.

“Wait!”

Maze turned towards Charlie, an obvious question in her eyes.

“In my world I used to be a hunter too, not of humans but of things close enough to them that – if needed I could be of help! Also, I don’t want to lose sight of the only creature I know on this side of the wormhole – so to speak.”

Maze understood, but this was a delicate job that required a certain amount of finesse and not what she considered to be an amateur (albeit a cute amateur) at her side.

“No, no way. I work alone, also I live here so if you stay, I can come find you anytime. Much easier than dragging a hunter along on such a technologically advanced job.”

Charlie smiled. “I broke into the Pentagon when I was ten. Wait, you still have the Pentagon here right?”

Maze smiled in surprise: “Ah, well, then it might help to have tech support when tailing the likes of Dick Roman.”

Charlie let her smile expand to Cheshire cat standards. “Something tells me you are really **really** going to like what I have to say.

Several hours later, after figuring out the key differences between the Roman enterprises that her and the Winchesters had taken down and the fledgling version of them that existed in this universe. They had a lot less power, for one, and their facilities were mostly concentrated around Los Angeles instead of being spread around the country and ready to turn humans into food (Charlie shuddered once more at the thought of how close she became to becoming that food herself).

As it turns out Dick Roman lived up to his name with or without a Purgatory-bound flesh-eating creature possessing him. In this universe he had created a charity fund only to embezzle money from it to fund his “meat research”. A highly misguided attempt to trick vegans into believing that beef was a non-meat product by illegally using genetic modifications on cow meat. A very peculiar mission, though apparently one that could have made him millions, had his research not taken too long and bankrupted him, since prompting his escape.

Thankfully, with the lack of funds, the digital security system of the meat packing plant in which Charlie was sure that Dick Roman was hiding in was laughable in comparison to what leviathan Dick Roman had set up in her world. It still took her a few minutes to connect her phone to this world’s technology and come up with a suitable plan to get to the C.E.O. without encountering too much resistance.

“Ok, Mazikeen, because apparently that’s your real name, we have to get through two doors, switch to the vent in the quality control room and crawl in there until we are right here, where the meeting room used to be. Here there is a door that connects to the office in which Roman is hiding. Here” she pointed to the map on her phone “where the densest amount of security has been allocated. The return once we have Roman and the money will be more difficult but there will only be about 5 security guards left at that point, the ones in the corridor we are avoiding on the way in, so we will probably be able to find our way out anyways.”

Maze stared at Charlie.

“What if we don’t avoid it? Then we won’t have any security guards to fight on the way back?”

Stunned Charlie tried to make this demon see reason, even though she could detect a rather unsubtle hint of excitement and glee, trying to crawl from under Maze’s game face.

“But there are more than 15 of them! Last time I stormed a Roman facility there were a lot more of us, we’re only two. I don’t think we’d even have enough gun rounds to incapacitate them.”

Maze grinned, this time leaving behind all pretences of not being excited by the prospect of beating several very large and muscular men into submission. Rather rapidly she unsheathed her sharpest knife from… Charlie wasn’t sure where it came from, that leather suit couldn’t possibly have any pockets.

“Who said anything about guns.”

Charlie was in awe. She was watching an unbelievably hot woman ninja her way through a wall of enormous security guards, beating them into the ground with the infinite litany of kicks, punches and impossibly stored knives and staffs that the demon seemed to be creating int thin air (maybe that was how demons worked in this world?). Charlie herself was taking down a few guards, elbows and knees first. Pure violence and Winchester style. And yet, even in this environment Charlie was taken by the woman (demon, DEMON Charlie!) in front of her and the elegance that she seemed to maintain, no matter how deep in blood she seemed to get. Finally, with an aptly placed kick to the face by Charlie, the last security guard went down and the two women hacked through to the room in which Dick Roman was hiding, sitting at his laptop next to a briefcase (undoubtedly full of money and not souls this time) with panic and resignation in his eyes.

A few short hours later, Charlie and Maze were able to kick Roman’s ass straight into the LAPD station closest to them, collect a sizeable bounty and return swiftly to the apartment to figure out their next step in getting Charlie back home.

Secretly Charlie knew she wouldn’t be as upset as before if she could never return, however. The Winchesters thought her dead and here she was already quite fond of this peculiar demon by her side. Bounty hunting Dick Roman the human way (more or less) with no Borax, head cutting and enormous mouths trying to eat you had been the most exciting thing Charlie could remember doing in a really long time. She wouldn’t mind being stuck here a little longer with her new peculiar friend.

Unfortunately, it seemed that any and all conversations on universe hopping would have to wait because – when they returned to the house – a tiny blonde woman was sitting curled up on the couch, a small infant tightly cradled in her arms and deep red circles around her eyes. She was trembling.

Maze panicked immediately as she saw her best friend trembling with tiny sobs on her couch.

“Linda! Linda, what’s wrong!”

In a small voice, the devil’s therapist managed to whisper out a single sentence with unbelievable desperation:

“It’s Amenadiel, he’s gone.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amenadiel learns more human emotions: panic and confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I noticed that I forgot to annotate my SPN canon tweaks on the SPN chapter so I'll write them here.  
> \- Sam and Dean get back to the bunker much faster because Chuck manages to take in baby Amara.  
> \- Hannah hasn't gone to Castiel yet because he's still being tortured.  
> \- Crowley is in hell, and setting up a party to hunt Rowena down.  
> \- Chuck has revealed himself before the end of S10 in my canon.  
> That is all :)

**\- Angels or Devils (Dishwalla) -**

Amenadiel was not the type of Angel who generally succumbed to panic.

Not that angels had much to panic about given their tendency to be immortal or very close to immortal (considering the whole matter of Azrael’s blade), but some of them (Michael, if memory served) had a tendency to be rather dramatic about the smallest things. No wonder Michael and Lucifer used to fight so often, the both had rather incendiary characters that brought nothing but unnecessary conflict and drama over nothing.

This, of course, had been before the Fall, when Lucifer and Michael were both still in heaven.

However, one tiny helpless Nephilim had changed Amenadiel’s perspective more than his brothers or even his friendships with humans had managed to.

As it turns out, the presence of baby Charlie in the life of God’s favourite son (as the flaming sword dictates) had turned the tables on his usually calm and collected demeanour.

Amenadiel was no longer a soldier first, nor a son, now he was a father.

He learned of the depths that his panic could truly take when the demons attempted to turn his son into the new king of hell. When he returned home to Linda only to find her crying and childless his heart seemed to stop (with his powers present it might once have done so with little consequence but now he was aware that it was just a sensation) and he had to convince himself to give in to his wrath and go get his son back.

He had appreciated Lucifer sacrificing his own freedom for his son and the humans. It was truly a testament to his brother’s growth exactly how selfless he had become in comparison to his early days on Earth. In the end, Eve’s visit had served as a contrast, not a catalyst as he had feared, and brought out the hero in the Devil.

Now, however, a couple of strangely long and dragging months after Lucifer flew down to hell, Amenadiel was having his second true panic attack.

Moments ago, he had been at home, preparing the house for Linda and Charlie’s return from the paediatrician (apparently Charlie’s physiology had stayed human enough not to raise any suspicion so far). Maze was away on a particularly interesting bounty hunt, so she had taken most of her equipment along. Thankfully this meant that Amenadiel could plump the cushions and set the takeaway into their nice ceramic without risking a cut of some sort from a hidden weapon. All in all, everything was going swimmingly, and the angel even dared to think that he was approaching happiness finally. He wanted to make an effort, show Linda that he could be Charlie’s father and possibly also something to her, something special.

Obviously, just as he was carrying the comforter to the couch, he tripped on something – which was strange because with a toddler around the house both he and Linda were very careful not to leave stray objects lying around – dropped the comforter and hit his head quite soundly. When he opened his eyes, just moments later, he wasn’t in his house anymore but on the floor of what seemed to be an antique bookshop, covered in H. P. Lovecraft and dusty from head to toe. He tried to send his consciousness out to find Linda, make sure she was ok, but got back nothing but static. Something was very wrong.

He looked around the bookshop. Everything was very tidy, clearly loved, though some books hadn’t been moved in a very long time judging by the dust around the covers. Some of them, he thought, even looked old enough to belong in biblical times – very strange – this was the house of a collector, surely. There were also two large chairs on either side of the room and several bottles of vintage wine placed on a short table at the centre of the room. More than one person lived here… Had they taken him? Possibly knowing of his child’s true nature, of his own? Hoping to score some godly favours directly from one of his sons?

Amenadiel heard two sets of slow footsteps coming towards him. He looked around but found nowhere to hide, so he chose to put on his most intimidating stance and face his possible kidnappers head on.

Into the room walked two rather peculiar men. He wasn’t sure why they seemed out of place, just that they had an air about them, as if you wouldn’t put them in this room or together for any reason. One was a plump gentleman, blond, fair skinned and dressed in white. Smiling at him was a tall, lanky and rather bony man dressed in full black, even going as far as wearing sunglasses indoors. You wouldn’t have guessed they could have known one another if not for the fact that they came into the room smiling amicably and talking to each other with friendly tones.

As soon as they spotted him, the two froze in confusion, not panic, and the blonde one started to talk.

“This isn’t one of yours, is it Crowley? I thought they knew to leave well enough alone.” The blonde man had a thick British accent that permeated his every word.

“No, angel, not one of mine. I am assuming not one of yours either, though it’s been more than ten years of silence on both fronts so there shouldn’t be one of anyone in here.” The tall redhead remarked, immediately then turning towards Amenadiel with an impetuous look on his face.

“Who are you, who sent you? You should know by now that we jussst want to be left alone – on Earth – to live our livess. Now sspeak, heathen, or live to regret thissssss.” The more the man – Crowley as the other called him – got incendiary, the more sibilant his threats became. Amenadiel swore he even saw a menacing flash of reptilian eyes right behind those sunglasses.

“You didn’t kidnap me?” asked Amenadiel in confusion. He couldn’t be sure that Crowley’s ire wasn’t just a ruse, but it seemed genuine enough to let him believe that his displacement was neither his fault nor theirs.

“Crowley, dear, let the man breathe! Can’t you see he’s terrified?” intervened the blond man, whose name Amenadiel had yet to hear.

“He’s supposed to be terrified, Angel, he was in your bookshop! Only Adam can get in here without going through the door so **what is HE**!”

No amount of soothing from Angel – Amenadiel assumed that was his name – seemed to calm Crowley down but the question, in and of itself, was a cause for concern for Amenadiel.

The interrogative hadn’t been who, but what, he was. This implied a knowledge of the occult beyond that of simple humans, and Adam? Was Eve’s husband also able to escape paradise? Maybe it was his doing then, maybe he had dragged Amenadiel to this strange place.

“If I may interrupt” Amenadiel addressed the two, they quickly turned to him, Crowley still clearly seething “I believe we are all victims here. I was taken from my home and dropped off here, possibly the same person did both. Now, if you could be so kind as to drop me back off home, there may be clues there as to the identity of the person who did this.”

Angel stepped forward. “Do excuse my dear old friend here, he has good reason to be disbelieving, however your tale seems trustworthy. Pray tell, where should I tell the cabbie to drop you?” he pulled out his phone and started dialling, presumably for the cab company.

“Ah, not sure what state my house is in, but Lux should be fine, everyone knows where it is.”

Amenadiel said, mildly relieved.

Angel explained on the phone to the driver that the destination was Lux, after a few moments of confusion he turned back to Amenadiel. “It seems they are unfamiliar with it and so are their maps, would you happen to have a more precise location perhaps?”

Amenadiel was confused. “They definitely have it, everyone does. I mean, even without my brother there to oversee the iniquities, or Maze to endorse them, it’s still the most popular club in LA.”

Both men were suddenly very silent. Angel put down the phone and ended the call.

“Aziraphale, should you or should I?” Crowley said, talking to the other man whose given name was – after all – not Angel.

“You, my dear, go ahead.”

Crowley sighed “Well lad, it seems you were dropped off quite a way from home, it would be quite expensive and possibly tricky to get from Soho to LA by cab, you see? And that’s where we are, in Soho.” He explained calmly.

Amenadiel felt the panic coming on again. “I’m in **New York**?” No wonder he couldn’t feel Linda, they were too far.

“No dear” interceded Aziraphale “Soho, London.”

Everything went dark.

Amenadiel came to with Aziraphale on one side of his face and Crowley on the other, both brandishing bags of half melted ice cubes and looks of interest.

“Are you alright lad? It seems we gave you quite a shock.” Crowley asked, managing well to keep all possible concern out of his voice.

When him and his angel had returned from their idle walk down to a new patisserie that had opened just a few minutes away from the shop and found a stranger in their leisure room, Crowley had gone quickly and – he was ashamed to say – involuntarily to his serpent persona. He had threatened the intruder and, quite possibly, scared him more than the average plant. However, now, seeing the prone man starting to return from his fainting spell, he felt a little culpable. Not guilty, never guilty, he was a demon after all, just like he could have handled his instincts better.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, seemed fairly unconcerned by the fact that a stranger had managed to enter his favourite space without his express permission. And given how protective the angel had become of the bookshop after the fire in the days of the Apocalypse that wasn’t, that was saying something about how pitiful the stranger appeared to be.

As the strange man came to, the panic that had left him in this state to begin with, returned hand in hand with his consciousness.

“I need to fly back, right NOW!” he exclaimed all of a sudden, struggling against the two beings who were desperately trying to keep him calm. “My son needs me, and Linda, she might be hurt. Please.” The man’s voice took a teary aspect as he said the last word, almost as if he believed there was a good reason why his loved ones could be dead.

“Wait, wait, calm down.” Interrupted Aziraphale, soothing but decisive in the way only this particular angel could pull off.

“In order to help you get home we will need some information. First, your name and document information, so we can book you a flight home, then the day you last remember being home so that we know how long you’ve been gone, then finally we can give you one of our phones to call home, don’t worry about the rate.”

Amenadiel was quite touched by the two strangers’ display of generosity, because of it he collaborated quickly. “Name is Amenadiel and I vanished on Friday, at 4 pm LA time. I know the number by heart so if you pass me a phone, I’ll be able to call right away.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley and the demon quickly gave Amenadiel his phone, given that Aziraphale’s wasn’t quite technologically advanced enough to sustain the connection to the United States very well.

Amenadiel quickly dialled Linda’s work phone and was extremely surprised when he heard back his own voice. “Dr Caanan and Dr Martin’s office, are you calling to take an appointment?” Quickly he hung up the phone and spoke to Aziraphale and Crowley.

“Something is wrong, something is very very wrong.” Out of instinct his wings came out, in their full glory and ready to attack, in response to his stress.

The two stared at him, then at each other, then they unfurled their own wings, one pair white as snow and the other black as soot.

Now they were in a strange situation: three supernatural entities, all stunned and staring at one another in the back of an antique bookshop in London.

“Well” interceded Aziraphale, breaking the silence “Something tells me we ought to have a word with Adam.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm baaaaaaaack!  
> Finally this fic will keep going to a hopefully satisfying conclusion. I reckon it will be at least 30 chapters by the time it is done but flexibly so. Not sure how long some parts will take to develop.  
> And PLEASE, do comment, the control is only there to block out possible hate, because no one needs that.  
> <3

**\- Heaven must be missing an angel (Tevaras) –**

“Name’s Adam, I’m from Tadfield, I admit I’m not the best at orientation outside of forests but this doesn’t look like my campus. Could you point me in the direction of St Pancras? I can find my way from there.”

Sam and Dean were stunned. First of all, a stranger with seemingly no powers was in the bunker unscathed and – up until this point – undetected by them or any of their wards. Secondly, he seemed British for some reason. Not that they were unused to unexplained accents – Balthazar, to think of one – but they were usually attached to preternatural beings and not to twenty-year-old university students.

“Ok, ok, funny, explain yourself, how’d you end up in Kansas, in here?” asked Dean pointedly, he wasn’t buying this lost lamb act. Almost to contradict his instinctive distrust, the kid’s face turned carefully blank. “I’m in Kansas?” he seemed panicked, but not panicked enough considering he thought, up until a few minutes prior, that he had been within driving distance of St Pancras.

“Yes, you’re in Kansas, in **our** house, so start talking.” Dean asserted, perhaps more aggressively than was strictly necessary, considering Sam’s subsequent kick in his shin.

The young man, Adam, didn’t seem very phased, actually he simply, and calmly, sat more comfortably and recounted his day up until the unexplainable Houdini act.

“I was just in my dorm room, having had lunch with Warlock, my roommate and one of my best friends, when I decided to sit down and complete my mid-term essay for the international law module I’m taking. I got maybe up to 100 words to the end when I started feeling dizzy. I tried to sit up but then I think I fainted and when I came to, I was in this closet.”

“And that’s all?” asked Sam, quite puzzled still.

“That’s all.” Finished Adam.

Both brothers were still quite sceptical of Adam and his sudden appearance in their home. However, they couldn’t completely discount his tale on the basis that he could simply be another human, damaged by supernatural entities unbeknownst to himself.

“Ok, let’s do a few things so we all feel better.” Sam interceded, breaking up the silence and being the diplomat of the situation, especially with his brother having only recently ended his stint as a demon. “Adam, we will do a few tests on you, just to make sure everything is, in line. If it is, we will help you get home, if it isn’t – it just isn’t.” he explained.

Adam was quick to hide his nerves, he doubted they could tell he was once the Antichrist, even though he still retained most of his powers (a little fact he had still neglected to tell his godparents, even now, ten years after the Apocalypse that wasn’t), but at least if they could he knew they were unlikely to be able to kill him. Comforted by his perceived invulnerability, he put on a brave face and followed Sam and Dean out of the closet and into what appeared to be an antique, if fully stocked kitchen (Aziraphale would love this, a little voice in his head helpfully supplied). The two hunters sat him down, tied him up with some very odd ropes, and brought out some salt, a jug of… water? And an extremely sharp-looking knife. Adam squirmed a bit in his seat when they brought out some cleaning fluid as well. Who **were** these two?

The tall… taller one (neither of them had deigned to tell him their name – how rude), tied him to a plain chair with what looked to be very heavy chains.

“Sorry kid, just a precaution.” The other chimed in, unhelpfully.

First Adam got drenched in some rather peppery water, or so he thought, it didn’t look any different, but it was tingling all over; then he felt a sting on his left arm where one of the brothers had cut him with a big sharp knife.

“Ow, what in the world do you think you are doing?” Adam exclaimed, suddenly feeling the itch to use his powers once more. But his anger was rapidly quelled by the apologetic look in the eyes of the one with the long hair, as if he had no choice.

So the Antichrist laid peacefully back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let himself be thoroughly checked through by the Winchesters.

“Ok, you’re good to go. Here’s a bandage and disinfectant for the blood. At least the scar will look good with the ladies, huh?” The green eyed one winked at Adam, all the while his brother shot the man a very unimpressed and sarcastic look. Huh, very interesting, there was sure to be a story worthy of a long video chat with the rest of the THEM once Adam got back to London.

Adam made a quick job of bandaging his arm, efficiently enough to earn twin suspicious looks from the brothers, but clearly not suspicious enough.

“I’m Sam” the taller one smiled and held out his hand for Adam to shake “and this is my big brother Dean.” Sam pointed at his brother, who stood in a corner with his arms crossed and a frown marring his features still, as if he hadn’t trusted anyone new in years.

“Pleasure.” Adam replied dryly, still taking Sam’s hand out of the pure British politeness that had been already deeply hammered into his character by years of being raised there.

Dean was pondering his options, on one hand Castiel was missing, he could be in serious danger, and his traitorous heart beat much faster in seething anger at the idea of anyone touching a feather on Castiel’s wing. But to rescue Castiel, even with the world’s most magical feather (this is what Dean had started calling it in his head), he would need the help and support of his brother, especially if they found Castiel injured enough that he couldn’t support himself or – even worse – dead. Dean didn’t want to think this way but years of being a hunter had conditioned him to think this way of those who went missing for especially long stretches of time with no explanation. On the other hand, leaving with Sam meant leaving this stranger, possibly from another universe if Chuck was to be believed (he never knew with the guy), alone in their home, their base of operations. The young student may have passed their tests but there was a self-assuredness, a somehow dangerous glint in the boy’s eye that Dean was used to associating with predators, Alphas, not barely post-pubescent British college students who find themselves across the world for no reason. Either way a decision had to be made. So, following a very odd hunch, Dean addressed Adam directly for the first time since the brothers found him in the supply closet:

“Can you fight?” he asked, voice somehow more gravelly than usual.

“Excuse me.” Adam was puzzled, what were these two on about *now*.

“Can – you – fight?” Dean repeated slowly, with an unusual amount of patience.

“I can defend myself well enough, yes, ate all my oats, what’s it to you?” Adam complied.

“And how do you feel about the supernatural?” Dean went straight to the point.

Adam felt a chill go down his spine, could they have figured it out? It seemed impossible, especially with the way his powers felt slightly dull and out of reach in this strange place. He wasn’t even sure he could survive a well-placed stab at the moment, much less a gunshot. So, he gathered his wits and answered as truthfully as he could without revealing his cover:

“I have had some contact with it, back when I was a child, but me and my friends all came out of it unscathed. Why are you asking?” Adam made sure to add a very tiny bit of his natural born persuasion into that last question.

“Let’s keep it simple” Dean explained “a very good friend of ours is in danger, real danger, from supernatural entities. We don’t know how long he’s gonna last or how far he is in days of travel from here so the way I see it we have two options. Option A, you tell me you can fight, you join us, you fight with us. You try to betray us, we gank you.” Here Dean helpfully supplied the image of the very big and very sharp knife he was holding to Adam by pretending to clean the blade. “Option 2” he continued loudly “You stay locked in that closet right there where we found you, with all our food supplies until we come back… if we come back. What do ya say?” Dean stared expectantly.

Adam thought for sure that they were joking, what were two humans with no powers doing directly engaging supernatural beings? This was madness! And they were asking someone who was – for all they knew of him – also human and potentially very untrained to join them on the front lines? Still, Adam had fought Heaven and Hell once, a little more supernatural conflict was unlikely to seriously injure him. So, he grinned:

“I’m in.”

Being in the Impala was definitely an experience in and of itself, thought Adam. First of all, he had quickly been relegated to the back seat with no explanation, as if it was expected, and then it had been really old classic rock cassette tapes all the way there. Not that he minded of course, he had been born in a time when all of this music was still really popular. However, he and most of the rest of the world had at the very least expanded their tastes since then, the brothers clearly had not.

Secondly, and probably the oddest thing to ever happen to Adam (which, all things considered, is a grand statement), instead of following a map like his godfathers were wont to do or even just a GPS like most of the rest of the civilised world, Dean – who was at the wheel – was rather unsafely driving following the directions of a magical glowing black feather that he was holding gently in his left hand as he drove. Sam explained that only Dean could feel the directions coming from the feather so none but him could hold it. Adam, of course, refrained from then suggesting that Sam could just drive then instead, feeling somehow that the suggestion would be rejected not without some degree of violence by the already quite tightly strung Dean.

Eventually, after about four hours of wandering around the great American streets (feel the sarcasm, supplied Adam in his head), they arrived at a very strange abandoned warehouse, how typical. However, Adam’s whole being was grating against getting any closer to the building, run down or not it was definitely of supernatural origin, or filled to the brim with things that were. For the first time since he was 11, Adam felt a shiver of uneasiness go down his spine, this wasn’t going to be easy.

Stepping through the first door went suspiciously smoothly. Though the place retained a sense of uneasiness, the half undone wooden door silently gave way to a long dark corridor, from which immediately the echo of a very loud, desperate scream could be heard “Please Jonah, Efram, BROTHERS, I’m telling the truth!” a gurgle, as if of water, or worse *blood* interrupted the voice at the end of the sentence, as well as a vicious stabbing sound.

Dean sprung forwards, panicked, before either his brother or Adam could stop him. He ran down the corridor, feather in hand, ready to die or rescue his angel from this pain. Castiel had suffered enough, mistakes or no mistakes. Adam and Sam quickly ran after Dean, the three of them bursting in, one after the other, in a room where two angels were torturing a third.

Adam had to stop for a second to take in the situation. To his own surprise his powers had – without even his own permission – slowed down time around him to allow him to better assess his actions. All the supernatural beings around him, as well as the two humans, were staring intently at one another, clearly ready for a battle, and Adam alone was in the centre, time moving normally for him, the outcome in his young hands once again.

He focused on the aura of the two angels doing the torturing, following in auntie Anathema’s footsteps, he needed leverage to get the upper hand.

As he honed in his senses he gasped, these angels were nothing like Aziraphale, soft and welcoming even in his immense power, or even like Crowley, still void of maliciousness despite his status, they were broken, bound to earth by a lack of the part of themselves that could move them back to their heavenly home. Adam couldn’t imagine what a pain like that could do to someone, even that someone was an angel.

Rapidly he gave time a nudge to restart and immediately used his other voice to communicate with the angels, Jonah and Efram, without the brothers being any the wiser.

“ ** _Leave this place_** ” the Adversary roared “ ** _I will give you the wings to do so_** ” and as he said it, so it was, both angels had their wings back “ ** _stay and the rest of your essence will match what your wings were before._** ” Adam closed the communication and finally reopened his eyes, hoping for the red to be gone. Not only were his eyes blue once more, but Jonah and Efram had vanished, leaving only the prone figure of the third angel hanging from the ceiling, his white shirt matted with his own blood and his eyes closed with pain and exhaustion.

Ignoring the odd situation, perhaps because of his attachment to the angel, Dean ran forwards, feather still in hand “CAS!” he yelled, and immediately removed the angel from his bindings. As soon as Dean was holding Cas, the feather started glowing again, brighter and brighter until it moulded to Cas’s skin and he started glowing as well. Sam pulled his brother away from the glowing angel despite the older brother’s struggles. “Please Sammy, I can’t” Dean fought against the tall man holding him back “Shh… I know Dean, but if Chuck gave us that feather to rescue him this will help.” Whispered Sam, clearly being gentle.

Adam just watched from the side lines as the angel (Cas? What an odd name for an angel) glowed and glowed. He was restored then, to the boy’s surprise, his power kept growing and growing and growing, until… a second set of wings appeared? What was going on?

Cas finally stopped glowing, he was standing on his own, no longer tired, no longer in pain, and as far from human as he ever had been. Still, as soon as he adjusted to his new extensions, he turned to Dean, and quickly accepted the hunter’s hug.

“You bastard” Dean whispered in his ear “never do that again, you hear?”

“Dean” Castiel was overcome with emotion “I cannot promise that I’ll never do that again if it saves you.”

Then, without letting the hunter reply to his declaration, Castiel turned abruptly towards Adam, a stern and cold look on his face. Oh no, thought Adam, who had relaxed in the middle of the romcom scenario from a few minutes prior and thought that his hiding had been sufficient.

“I am Castiel” the angel declared in a very official tone (ah, that makes more sense, Adam’s brain chimed in) “Archangel of the Lord.” The brothers shot each other a confused look “And what, pray tell, are you?”

Adam took a deep breath, time to face the music.


End file.
